Desert Angels
by purehalo
Summary: Set after Bloodlust. The boys find themselves at the mercy of a violent Sheriff and the mystery of the desert. Really just an excuse to beat them both up!
1. Chapter 1

Nope, don't own them, but if I did I'd be working down my fantasy list right about now.

Thank you to my friend Daisymay for letting me use part of her amazing story 'All roads lead to…' Read it, you won't be disappointed.

Thanks to my great beta Kelly for her amazing help with this, many extra cookies are coming your way!

Set after Bloodlust.

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The Impala growled down the road, kicking out dust as it went, almost like the car was attempting to exact it's own revenge on the cop currently running the brothers out of town.

Dean gripped the wheel as the Impala let out another growl, this was her job, to protect them both she'd cocooned them as boys, helped teach them to drive, protected their weapons, their secrets, their tears and their blood. That was her role, and she embraced it, and in return Dean had lovingly restored her, brought her back to full health, better health.

Sam sat rigid in the seat beside his brother, they were past the city limits, they were far into the desert yet still the cops followed. He glanced toward Dean but the only emotion on his sibling's face was that of grit determination to get the hell out of the half-a-horse town and back to civilisation.

The lights behind them suddenly went dark, there was nothing as far as Dean could see except the desert and the moon. He relaxed his grip on the wheel, stole a sideways glance and crooked smile to Sammy, who visibly relaxed and let out a long held sigh.

"I didn't think they were gonna let us go!"

"Yeah, well, hick towns and their law rules. They do so love a power trip Sam."

"I thought at one point they were just going to shoot us on the spot."

"Man, I felt like I was in an episode of the 'Dukes of Hazard'."

"I'd be Bo ya know."

"What? No way, you'd be Luke."

"Like hell I would, I'd be Bo and you know it."

"Whatever Dude."

Dean relaxed his shoulders and sank further into the seat, allowing the hum and vibration of the Impala to soothe his nerves. They'd been investigating a possible Poltergeist that had been tormenting a family. Unfortunately the local police didn't take kindly to two strangers coming in and solving the mystery, saving a family, where they had failed. They also had a problem believing the family when they said it was something supernatural that the boys had saved them from. The cops had blamed the boys for the disturbances, although it killed them that there was no proof. So here they were, being run out of town again, and not too soon as far as Dean was concerned. The older of the two cops, a man named Phil Harper, had a look in his eye that Dean had seen before, seen it in the eyes of Gordon Walker, it was a sadistic one and one that screamed danger. The man had taken an instant dislike to the brothers, and with no other towns close enough to worry about, he'd made his dislike known and had knocked Dean out with a sneaky crack of the gun to the back of his head. When he'd come to, he was sitting in the passenger side of the car, Sam at the wheel , heading out of town with the cops keeping a close tail behind. After a quick stop to swap places, more so to annoy Phil and his mentally challenged partner Mike, they'd made quick work of the dust road out of the sleepy town.

Sam sank back in the seat and allowed his eyes to drift closed. This was only their second gig after setting the vampires free, saving them from Gordon and his need to kill everything, regardless of the circumstances. Yet through all that, the need to get Dean away from the man had been the greater want in Sam. There was a look in his brother's eyes, complete desolation, a lack of everything and anything. He'd seen that look when Dean had taken his anger out on the Impala. His brother didn't know it but Sam had watched, had witnessed the melt down, the absolute out pour of anger and grief, and he'd been thankful. It was a terrifying moment, but at the same time a reassuring one to Sam; Dean hadn't completely closed down, and he was letting some of that emotion out.

As the Impala snaked it's way through the sand covered valley the boys relaxed and enjoyed the silence of each other's company, the sound of the car easing Dean's headache. He had wanted to smack the guy back but, due to a small case of unconsciousness and Sam's quick acting to get them in the car and out of town, he'd had to forgo that particular revenge.

Still, he was patient, he could wait. The engine purred beneath him, wrapping him in a warmth that soothed him to the core. There was another sound though, beneath the purr of the engine, Dean frowned as he tried to concentrate on the foreign noise, was there something wrong with the car? Engine maybe? Didn't sound like that kind of noise.

He sat bolt up right as the realisation hit.

"SAM!."

As Sam jumped to the sound of his brother's voice the car was hit hard from behind and sent skidding across the road. Sam fell forward and smacked his head on the glove compartment, Dean attempted to reach for him but between keeping the car on the road and his brother upright and safe something had to give. He braced himself against the seat and held Sam back firmly as the car skidded across the sand covered ground and smashed into a rock fifty yards from the road.

In the distant recesses of his mind a small white light began to register, slowly growing in size and moving toward the foreground with a dizzying speed. Slowly he became aware of feeling, something slumped on his arm, pinning him, and something else, some other sense was trying to wake him up. With a moan of protest Sam began to move toward greater awareness of his surroundings. He blinked slowly and through sheer will of force kept his eyes open. Dean was laying across his arm, head in his lap, blood making a lazy trail down the left side of his face. A careful turn toward the driver side window, the cobweb of cracked glass, the realisation they were not alone.

"Thought you'd get away easily didn't you boy?".

Sheriff Phil Harper pulled open the drivers side door of the Impala and pulled Dean from Sam's arms before he could even register the act. Dumping Dean unceremoniously onto the cold desert floor, Phil delivered a smug kick to the downed man's side before turning his attention back to the dazed man still sitting in the car.

"I don't like strangers boy, and you two are the strangest I've ever had the unfortunate luck to meet."

"What do you want?"

"Get out of the car."

Sam turned toward Mike Grant, who stood menacingly beside his window, gun drawn, eyes tracking Sam's every movement.

"Get out. Now."

Ignoring the ache that was creeping across his entire body, Sam carefully extracted himself from the car, his body barely from the vehicle when Mike grabbed him and roughly pushed him to the ground. Sam could do nothing but watch as Phil made his way around the car and stood next to his partner, both had guns drawn, both had a look of benevolence across their features.

Shit.

Swallowing carefully, determined to show no fear, Sam sat himself on his knees, hands resting in his lap, and he smiled at the two.

"Did we run a red light? Speed? Miss a yield sign?"

"You think this is funny boy?" Phil leaned down, his current height advantage over the younger man only an illusion which they were all too aware of.

"You tell me, should I be laughing?"

"I'm gonna beat the tar outta you boy, I don't like strangers in my town, poking around, putting their noses where they don't belong. That family, they didn't need you spinning those kinda lies about ghosts and what not. Who do you think you are, to come here and scare innocent people?"

"You're right, I'm sorry, you could scare them enough without us helping."

Phil smiled a slow, menacing smile as Mike stepped forward, mace in hand.

"Gonna teach you such a lesson, you ain't never gonna forget it, ain't that right Phil?"

"Damn straight."

"You men wanna step away from my brother before you knock him out with your bad breath?"

Dean stood as best he could, put on his best 'I'm a Winchester and I'm scary' face and attempted to ignore the fact that the desert was dancing before his eyes and he was sure he was standing on quick sand. One glance down at his brother and he knew he'd fallen short of looking scary, he just hoped he looked at least a little intimidating, or at least bought Sam some time to build up to scary on his behalf.

"Nice of you to join us boy." Mike took a step toward Dean, mace extended.

"Man, please tell me that's a can of right guard, this desert has got me stinking like a skunk."

"You think this is funny?"

"I don't think this is funny at all. Step away from my brother."

The low tone and deep growl of Dean's voice caused both men to pause in their advancement. They took in the stranger's hunched shoulders, determined stance, hands behind his back, concealing…a weapon? They didn't know and for the first time since their little fun plan was concocted both men paused and began to rethink the intelligence of their entertainment. They'd only done this once before, and it had gone a whole lot more smoothly than their current hunt.

Dean stood his ground, despite the fact it didn't seem all that steady. He kept his eyes on the two imbeciles in front of him, yet in the corner of his vision was Sam.

Slowly rising from the ground.

Slowly walking forward.

One step.

After another.

As his brother came up behind Mike the deputy caught the glint in his prey's eyes and abruptly turned, spraying mace as Sam ducked, his eyes caught enough to cause his vision to swim and tears to stream down his cheeks. Dean ran forward, as fast as his unsteady legs would carry him and with both arms outstretched, floored the men before they had a chance to turn their attention back to him.

"RUN SAM!"

With his hands to his eyes and his mind still reeling from the pain Sam could only hope his brother was right behind him. He turned and ran into the dark abyss of the desert. The cold air in complete contrast to the searing heat of the day helping to keep him alert, he ran as far as could, the sound of his feet smacking into the sand reverberating off of the surrounding boulders.

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	2. Chapter 2

You've all spoiled me with your reviews!!! Thank you so much!!

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Chapter Two

Dean pinned the two cops for about ten seconds before they threw him off. He figured ten seconds would be enough for Sam and his freakishly long legs.

Dean pulled himself upright, tried to go for a menacing wolf-like scowl, settled instead for irritated hamster.

"You know the trouble you're in boy? You got no right being in our town, no right fighting us, you're resisting arrest, and now you'll be punished."

"I'm glad you used those words."

"What's that boy?"

"Those words suit me better than 'squeal like a pig', which I'm also pretty sure you've used before."

Phil only smiled at Dean, causing all kinds of alarm bells to sound in the older Winchester's mind.

"Mike?"

"Yes boss?"

"Get the rope."

"Yes boss."

Dean stood to his full height, ignoring the thundering in his scull, and stared the man down, yet Phil didn't flinch, he just smiled, his eyes trained on Dean yet his head hung low. He knew he had the advantage, but he didn't know that Dean wouldn't be taken easily, he was going to go down kicking and screaming, eventually would win, get out into the desert, grab Sam and get the hell outta Dodge.

If the desert would just stop spinning for a few minutes.

"On your knees boy."

Mike stood in front of Dean, rope in hand, motioning for him to kneel.

"Nah, I'd rather stand."

Dean blamed the concussion for his not seeing the fist before it struck his face. Mike pulled him down to the ground and began to tie his arms behind him. Dean managed to free one arm and smacked Mike back across his nose, blood instantly flowing down across his lips. As he pulled back for another punch Phil stepped behind him and planted a firm boot into the small of Dean's back, causing him to scream in agony and meet the ground face first.

Sand, in his mouth, how'd that get there? Sam slowly moved his head, very slowly, every movement caused a wave of agony to flow across his skull before landing in a heap behind his eyes, daring him to hold his lunch. He'd fallen, that much he could deduce, when though? How long had he been lying unconscious on the desert floor? How was Dean? Was he alright? Was he following?

Squeezing his eyes closed Sam willed his mind to silence, taking time to monitor his breathing, focus on the intake of air, quiet the thoughts and control the pain. Or so he'd been told in a yoga class Jess had dragged him to. So far he'd only managed to breathe in. Moments passed before Sam felt calm enough to attempt to move again. This time the pain stayed at bay, watching him from afar like a lioness stalking gazelle, moving around the corners in the belief she was unseen, tracking every movement, every intention. Slowly standing, bent over at the waist, Sam began to rise to his full height. As his lunch rose from it's crouched position he doubled over again and retched until he was sure he'd lost at least four lunches and a dinner to the ground. His head swam again and he dropped back down to his hands and knees, body covered in sweat, shivering in the cold of the desert night. Well Jess, what did it say to do in this situation in Yoga class?

"_I'm not going."_

"_Come on Sam, it'll be fun."_

"_Yeah, right, learning how to breathe in order to release more wind from your body."_

"_There's more to it than that."_

"_Really? Like what?"_

"_The stretches mean we can get into more positions."_

_Jess raised her eyes innocently as Sam's mouth dropped open, images bombarding his mind as he rushed to grab his coat and keys , standing by the door he called back to Jess, "You coming or what?"_

_Jess stared at the picture of Mumma and Pappa Winchester, two people she hadn't met, one she'd never meet, the other, rarely spoken of. She sighed again at the lack of information Sam chose to share about his family, his father rarely spoken of, his brother, when Sam felt like sharing, was always spoken about fondly, always with a tinge of sadness. Where were they? Why was he so ashamed? As she stared into the depths of the photograph Jess made a silent promise. She would stand by him, she would stay with him, she would open him up and drink his memories and ease his pain. Then she'd meet his family and bring them together once more._

"_JESS!"_

"_Coming!" She laughed as she grabbed her bag. Men, always so easy to manipulate when it came to a woman's body._

With thoughts of Jess dancing behind his memory Sam again tried to stand, as unsteady as a newborn calf. He began to make his way back in the direction he was sure he left Dean. With a bruised and cut hand he wiped his still sore eyes and blinked into the blackness, clouds above hiding the precious light of the moon from the wayward son, yet still he carried on. He needed to find Dean, needed to find his brother, his family.

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I know it's short but i'm aiming to update again tomorrow, until then...keep them reviews coming! They are the fuel to the fire!


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

He had to admit, it wasn't quite as bad as he thought it would be. There was no banjo music, no twisted and dirty boy with bad teeth and a filthy wife beater, just these two assholes, currently beating the tar out of him.

Dean's hands were tied behind his back, the same rope also holding his ankles together, a fact he was thankful for given the movie currently haunting his mind. He was on his side, Phil no longer needing Mike to hold him down. After the third blow to his head he had been so dazed that tying him up had no doubt been an easy task.

He'd tried to struggle once awareness allowed him to come part of the way back into the fold, only Phil kept the blows coming, to his ribs, his belly, Mike bringing his boot down on his left knee. He wasn't broken, not yet, but Dean Winchester was bruised to hell and he knew it. The men stopped their onslaught to share cigarettes and watch as Dean tried to control his breathing, tried to remember what it was Sam had taught him in order to calm himself down, in through the nose out through the mouth? Or was it the other way round?

Sam.

Where the hell was he? He was safe, that much Dean knew, if he wasn't tied up and being beaten then he was safe.

"Wonder if your partner has been bit yet?"

Maybe not so safe.

"Wonder if he's come across a rattler or scorpion by now?"

"I prefer Quiet Riot to Ratt and Scorpions."

Phil looked quizzically at Dean, still lying on his side, covered in dirt and sweat.

"Are you sassing me boy?"

"Yes, yes sir I am what are you gonna do about it? Beat me some more? Go ahead."

Phil sauntered forward and knelt in front of Dean, the headlights from his car casting a menacing shadow across the ground, enveloping Dean in it's embrace. Leaning forward Phil blew smoke into his face, smirking as Dean tried to catch his breath again.

"You're gonna die boy, you and your partner are gonna die, save any other town having to deal with you and will save those tax payers from having to pay for you."

"So that's what all this is about, saving the poor tax payers some money? I take it back, you're a good man after all."

"Sarcastic son of a bitch ain't ya?"

"Quick on the uptake there Phillip."

"You won't be laughing when Mike comes back with that other guy kicking and screaming and bleeding all over the place."

Dean felt the breath catch in his throat as he stared into the recess of Phil's eyes.

"That's right boy, Mike is gonna go and get him, bring him back and then you're gonna watch him die. How'd ya like them apples?"

"Er Phil?" Mike walked warily forward, motioning back as Phil turned to him, yet Phil didn't follow, only raised his eyes for him to carry on.

"I er, it's dark out there Phil, and I've only got me a flashlight."

Dean smirked and cocked an eyebrow in Mike's direction.

"That ain't right Phillip, you can't let him go into that desert all by himself, tell you what, give me the gun you got there and I'll make sure I don't run away while you two go searching for Sam."

Phil smiled down at Dean, he licked his lips slowly and without turning back to Mike said "You go get him, you bring him back, if you don't find him you keep on walking."

"Phil?"

"NOW MIKE!"

"Yessir."

Mike grabbed his flashlight, looked out in to the vastness of the desert and took one tentative step forward. He looked back at Phil still crouched over Dean, the boy was bloody and shaking, but more from anger than pain Mike suspected. As he stepped from the dirt road and into the desert he kept thinking how they'd picked the wrong boys to play with tonight; that Dean, he had revenge in his eyes. Part of Mike secretly hoped the boy would get free. Phil was starting to take the game to a whole new level, one which Mike wasn't sure he wanted to reach. The last men had been beaten to hell and left out in the desert for fate and nature to play with as they saw fit. He heard later that they'd made it to Foxbrow, a town five miles east, walked down the main street looking like death warmed over, but alive, and forever silent about their ordeal. But this, this was going to be murder.

Sam walked forward, hands outstretched, wary of the shifts in the ground. The desert noises surrounding him becoming deafening, the silence in-between causing his ears to ring with pain, before dropping to the ground to catch his breath. Bringing his hand to his head he felt the huge goose egg that had formed, from the corner of the raised skin a gash deep enough to have caked half his face in blood.

He was in trouble, and he was alone.

Sam focused his mind, listing all the symptoms of concussion, he must have really hit his head hard when he'd fallen, how far had he run? He couldn't be sure, but he knew his eyes had still been stinging and his vision poor before he'd hit the ground at full speed. Then nothing. There were no sounds to follow back to the road, on their way into the town they'd only passed one car in the five hours it had taken to get to the hell hole. Five hours, they'd only been driving for one hour on the way out of town, there was no one to help.

On their own again. Even though for the past year they'd been alone, the thought, the knowledge, the hope of their father had been enough to cushion them, he'd be there, he'd make it alright, even when Dean had been dying after the electrocution Sam had held the belief that everything would turn out ok, because their father had been out there, somewhere. The hurt of being ignored was cushioned by the fact he'd come back to them. How easily slights were forgotten when those you loved came back, embraced you, held you in their heart and gave you a skip in your step. Even in the hospital after the possession, even as Dean had admitted to being hunted by a reaper, Sam knew somehow, just somehow, having Dad there would make it alright, he'd said as much. Even when he'd disappeared from the hospital, as angry as Sam had been he still knew, somewhere in his heart, Dad would make it ok. It's what Dads do. Sam laughed sadly, no, it was what Deans do. They make it all alright, they make it better, yet that role had been passed down to him. Now it was Dean who needed help, who needed to know he'd be ok no matter what, and it was Sam's job to provide that for him, no matter what the cost.

He stood slowly again, a gentle resolve building its way through his veins and into his heart. He had to help Dean, that was his role now. As he moved to step forward a wind rushed past him, warming him through to the bone, and a light followed. Slowly he raised his head to meet a figure in white that blocked his path, illuminated by a glow from her dress, blonde hair flowing about her as if caught under water. Her hair was aflame with ethereal light, skin almost transparent in a beauty only retained by the ascended.

Jess.

Sam's breath caught as his eyes began to fill with tears. As they fell across his face the figure reached forward, her smile seeming to intensify the light around her.

"_Sam."_

"Jess?"

"_Sam it's ok."_

"Jessica?"

"_Shhh baby, it's all ok, you need to turn around."_

"What? Jess!?"

She stepped slowly forward, the cold of the desert receding as Jess moved into Sam's air, the warmth of her body instantly remembered, badly missed, making his heart ache as he reached out to touch her, only for his fingers to pass through, causing her figure to shimmer. She laughed gently, sadly, and shook her head.

"_Not yet baby. Sam, you need to turn around." _

Sam blinked to clear the tears from his eyes and reopened them to the nothingness of the black desert, no Jessica.

Had it been a dream? He looked around frantically but saw nothing, nothing at all, yet the air was still warm, still gathered around him in a protective embrace. The tears now fell freely as he fell once more to his knees.

"Jess."

Sam gazed skyward, the stars seemed to twinkle almost as if Jessica was dancing for him.

Turn around.

She'd said to turn around.

Wiping his eyes Sam took a deep breath, the warmth slowly fading as the desert cold took over. Looking behind him he stared into the distance, there was nothing, nothing but desert.

Everywhere.

Black desert.

Then a glint of light, for only a second.

Sam wiped his eyes again, this time using the corner of his shirt to fully clear his vision. He stared in the direction he was sure he'd seen the light. Stared into the darkness, the blackness, the nothingness. As he was about to turn away the light caught his eye again, almost as if one of the stars from above had fallen and was bouncing across the sand and dirt.

No mistaking the sight now, there was definitely a light, moving toward him, in the direction Jessica had pointed.

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What can i say? Your reviews are amazing! I hope i replied to you all but if i missed anyone i'm really sorry and i'm really thankfull you've taken the time to read and drop me a line.

So this enough? Or are ya thirsty for more?!


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Mike made his careful way through the desert, avoiding the low brushes and piles of rocks, acutely aware of the scorpions, the snakes, the other bugs that would just love to eat him whole and alive. His mind wandered back to the last men they'd caught and beaten, Phil's idea, teach them a lesson, make sure they didn't come back or hurt anymore people. Yet Mike had known there was a deeper reason, a sadistic side to Phil that liked to see the pain he had caused, who got off on it, the horror in the men's eyes as they had realised they could quite possibly die out here in the desert, possibly cease to exist without a soul knowing what had happened, except Phil and Mike. The grim reapers of the desert Phil had named them. He'd wanted to do this again, had been itching, and the second he'd seen those two guys drive into town , Mike had seen a light go on in his eyes.

The power.

The power to take life elevated a man beyond that of any drug, and Phil was hooked. Mike was scared. How could he say no to the one person he admired, idolised, the one person who petrified him. No, he could never say no. Did that mean he was a bad man? Or a weak one?

Sweeping his light from left to right , Mike gazed to the east and smiled. Few outsiders knew how close their town was to Foxbrow, five miles, five short miles if you travelled straight across the desert. By road it was almost three hours. Three hours east was Foxbrow, five hours south and you hit the city, full of lights and noise and people. But out here? Out here they had their own lights, their own noise, they controlled the people. It was only sheer dumb luck that had those last two ingrates find their way to Foxbrow, took them a day to do it and according to Mike's cousin there they'd been barely standing by the time they'd stumbled into town, neither willing to say what had happened except their car had broken down and they'd got lost in the desert. Had fallen along the way, had a fight with each other. Honestly officer, that's all that happened.

Mike walked carefully past a large gathering of rocks, picked his way through the brush and swept the torch back and forth. He paused, stilled his breathing and listened deeply.

There had been a noise.

He listened, willed his heart to slow and cease the pounding that was drowning out the night. Wait, there, again, a rustling.

Dean watched Phil carefully. The Sheriff was on his third cigarette leaning back against his car, hands flicking across the headlight, causing Dean to wince in pain each time the weight of the light was allowed to cascade back into his vision.

Yet he refused to look anywhere else than Phil.

He was gonna have his revenge, he'd taken enough of these types, these men who thought they were the authority, they were the governing mind above all others on how people should live, what they should believe, who should live, who should die.

So maybe there was residual Gordon anger. Dean was willing to admit that, but he was intent on taking it all out, Gordon, Mike all of it, out on Phil.

What was it with people wanting to hurt Sam? Gordon had a look in his eyes toward his brother that Dean had a hard time not shooting him for, there had been a lazy anger, almost carefree. The way he'd cut into Sam's arm, so swiftly, almost as if he was cutting cheese. If only he'd known, known about Sam. Thank god the guy had been clueless. Dean knew he had to protect his brother, he had to make sure he was safe, but it was so hard, he was so tired, the only thing that gave him energy, that reminded him he was breathing was the kill. That thought alone scared him, he was so close, so close to crossing the line and becoming the kind of man he never wanted to be. Yes he enjoyed the life, enjoyed the hunt, but only to a point. Seeing the chaos caused, the hurt left behind by the demons, the poltergeists, the dead come back to haunt, breaking the hearts of their loved ones all over again. How could he enjoy that? With the consequence in his heart he maintained a balance; with Sam on his side his humanity was intact.

How easy would it be to leave the consequence behind?

How easy to close his eyes and only see the hunt and rush of the kill, ignore the pain and blood and screams of the victims?

How easy?

Too easy.

Sam though, Sam kept that part of him alive and aware. If people like Gordon knew about Sam then how was he going to keep him safe? How could he protect him from hunters? How could he fulfil the promise John had asked him to make when he'd been only five.

"_Look after Sammy, don't let anything happen to him Dean, he's your responsibility, look alive dude."_

"_Yes Daddy."_

"_I mean it Dean, Sam has to be watched, be safe, Daddy has to go speak to this nice lady here, I'll just be in the next room, but you watch out for Sammy."_

"_Yes Daddy."_

_A kind and soft spoken black woman leaned down into Dean's line of sight. She took his tiny hand in hers, covered both hands in a grip, as she tightened her hold she took a sudden intake of breath. Her eyes cast down to him sadly, she smiled, barely concealing the pain in her features as his young emotions washed through her._

"_Poor child, poor baby. It's gonna be ok though Dean, you trust me child. I know you'll be ok."_

Phil stepped forward slowly, Dean hadn't looked away, not once, and Phil had to admit that unnerved him. This one couldn't be set free, he had hate in his eyes and a firm resolve washed out from him across the grit and dirt to snake it's way up and around Phil's limbs, reminding him this boy was dangerous. The deep hatred, the firm set of his jaw, he was waiting for an opportunity, one Phil wasn't going to give him.

He reached for his gun, placed firmly behind his back. Dean tracked his movements with his eyes, never once looking away.

Never once showing his fear.

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Many many snowballs of love to you all for your reviews and support, if i didn't get back to you i'm very sorry but please know i'm so thankfull you've taken the time to read and review X

So , should i leave the boys alone now, or do you think they can handle some more?


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Sam crouched as far down as the rocks surrounding him allowed. He'd found three boulders, all huddled together, in which to hide from the man with the light, the man he could now see as the deputy, Mike. He was searching for him, reluctantly it seemed, but still searching thoroughly. Sam attempted to crouch further, aware of the rustling sounds he was making, but his long body and his aches and bruises conspired against his need for smallness. The light swung back over in his direction. Once again he tried to duck down further, only succeeding in making more noise. The light dimmed, the footsteps stopped.

The light went out.

He heard the distinct sound of a gun being cocked.

"I know you're there boy, do us both a favour and come out now, come on."

Mike carefully stepped forward again, he wanted nothing more than to be home in front of the television watching Law and Order and seeing how they did things in the big city. Not that he ever wanted to go there, the furthest he'd ever been was up to Flagstaff, and that was busy enough for him, he didn't like to travel. He liked his home comforts and his quiet life, not this, not a hunt. Before Phil had gotten the taste for the pain the most Mike had had to deal with was ol' Mac Cartwright drunk on a Friday afternoon attempting to direct the small amount of traffic by the school.

"Come on boy, I ain't gonna hurt you."

Sam weighed his options; stay in his hiding place, which Dean would no doubt mock him for and ask him what the hell he was thinking, or make his presence known and take hold of any opportunity to gain the upper hand that presented itself.

Well, it wasn't as if he was hidden all that well.

As soon as he began to move the beam from Mike's flashlight breathed life once more and bathed him in a blinding ray of light. He could make out the silhouette of the deputy, caught as a buffer between light and dark, hope and desperation, life and death.

Attempting to keep the grimace from the many aches and pains, knocks and bruises from his features, Sam walked forward, hands above his head, hoping the placating gesture would buy him some time.

"Where's my brother?"

"With Phil, he's safe for now."

"Really? Wouldn't say Phil was a guy to be safe with."

"Yeah, you're probably right about that, I gotta take ya back now, take you back to the road."

"Then what?"

"Now boy, I can't tell you, but you have to come back with me." Sam caught the hesitation as it ghosted across the Deputy's face. Swallowing hard and feigning a look of fearsome menace, Mike motioned for Sam to walk ahead of him, back towards the dirt road.

"You sure you want to do this Mike?"

"Shut up, of course I'm sure."

"Was it your idea or Phil's? I bet it was Phil's. You don't want to follow him your whole life do you?"

"You need to stop talking boy or I'll shoot you right here."

"I don't think you will", Sam stopped walking and slowly turned to face Mike, his hands still behind his head, he smiled carefully and raised his eyebrows sympathetically.

"Come on Mike, you seem like a real intelligent man, a lot going for you, how'd you get messed up in all this?"

"I chose to be messed up in this, now keep walking."

"I think you want to let me go." Sam held the other man's eyes, hoping to hell he'd judged him right. Hoping to hell he'd at least gain some time to think of something, anything to get them both out of this. He could only guess what state Dean was in right now. If he could just reason with this guy, just a little bit, so that at least when they were all back together he might raise a concern with Phil, buy Sam and Dean some time while they no doubt argued.

It was a weak plan.

But he'd run out of ideas and his head hurt too much to help him think of new ones.

"Listen to me boy, I ain't gonna let you go, even if I wanted to, this here, this has gone too far now, can't let you live, can't let you go."

Mike looked almost sorry for him, he smiled sadly and raised the gun chest height to Sam.

"Now turn around boy, and get to walking. You and your partner ain't gonna make it through the night so you might as well at least make it easie……"

Sam looked up as Mike stopped talking, the hand holding the gun was shaking, causing the barrel to point toward Sam's neck, his chest, his shoulder. The hand holding the flashlight shook causing the light to dance back and forth creating a grotesque seizure of the land.

The flashlight dropped from his hand, rolled away as it landed on the dirt, casting it's beam back the way they'd come, yet they were both still bathed in light.

Coming from behind Sam.

Mike's eyes were wide with fear, his mouth had dropped open and sweat had broken across his face. The light grew around Sam, a wind rushed past him, warming him and enveloping him in a shimmering embrace. Slowly he turned, even though he thought he knew what he would see he was still hesitant.

Once was a concussion.

Twice was a spirit.

He allowed his body to turn fully before he raised his eyes to the figure before him. She stood amongst a billowing fire-like light, her hair blowing around her as if caught in a hurricane, her dress barely moving amongst the energy surrounding her. She was beautiful, as pure as the earth from which the roses grew in a field of freedom and untouched by all, she was real, she was here. Again Sam's eyes filled with tears, tears of missed memories and stolen love. He opened his mouth, his words stuck in his throat, yet one word escaped, one word spoken and the figure smiled to him with a love so deep he swore he'd feel it for years to come.

"Mum?"

"_Sam."_

XXXXXXXXXX

_John Winchester watched as a beautiful blonde-haired girl walked along the street outside the main campus building at Stanford the sun shining down upon her. Autumn had turned the trees to purples and browns yet today was a summer's day in California, a beautiful summer day, as a proud yet scared father watched his son race down the steps, book laden and grinning, smiling so fully John was taken aback by the joy in his youngest's face. He'd never had his boy smile at him like that. Dean could elicit full facial grins, but never John, never anyone else until Sam set his eyes on the blonde haired, beautiful girl who reached her arms around him in greeting. With a sad heart for a life unknown, John started the truck's engine, cast another look toward his son, and as he drove off he wondered 'What would Mary think of her boy now?'_

Sam stared like a deer in headlights, rooted to the ground, unable to breathe, unable to move, unable to process the sight before him. Mary smiled, she grinned fully and allowed one single tear to catch on her skin before it took flight toward the stars.

"_Sam, it's ok."_

"Mum?"

"What the hell ?" Mike had been all but forgotten his gun still raised, but this time pointed toward Mary.

"_Leave my boy alone."_

"This ain't real, this ain't right, this ain't real." Mike slowly began to back up, his foot knocked the flashlight, twisting it around to face Sam. Mary gazed at her boy, bathed in light and so fragile, in so much pain, yet so beautiful. She smiled again, the corners of her mouth causing the tears in the young hunters eyes to fall freely, his breath hitched slightly, the world spun yet Mary stayed strong, stayed firm.

"_Find Dean. Help him, bring him to my grave."_

He nodded slowly, sadly, backing away yet wanting nothing more than to run forward and lose himself in his mother's embrace. Mary shook her head sadly, she was so proud of her boy, so proud of the man he was, the man he could be. She knew in her heart the girl he had picked had been the right one, yet the demon had taken her from him too, all the pain, all the anger, a family splintered and broken, two boys raised as warriors, a husband lost in the need for revenge. Emotions began to surge through her causing the light around her to sway and pulse, her focus on Mike, her anger on Mike, her revenge….on Mike.

Mike lifted the gun higher.

And fired.

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(second time lucky, hope this time the site accepts my changes!! )

BWA HA HA HA HA Evil cliffie!!!

Once again thank you and hugs to you all for reading and a reviewing

I'm so excited about the new eppy, i'm like a bunny in a carrott field!!

XXX


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Phil stood over Dean, he was barely breathing as his finger caressed the trigger, this was the part he'd fantasized about, this was the part he'd always wanted, beating up the other men, that had been great, been amazing even, but it wasn't enough, it wasn't far enough.

But this, this would be the ultimate show of power, for the people, the gods as witness and for himself. The ultimate strength to take the life of another man.

He didn't smile, didn't flinch, simply leaned forward, gun pressed into Dean's temple.

Dean held the thought of Sam in his mind, he refused to close his eyes, refused to make this easier on the man. But the look in his face, the darkness within the depths told him that eyes opened or closed, Phil was going to enjoy extinguishing his life. Dean's heart beat so fast in his chest, his pulse raced through his body, his skin tingled, burned and he was sure if he had looked down he would see his arms aflame. His breathing began to quicken yet his mind held one thought, Sammy.

He didn't want to die, didn't want to leave this world without knowing Sam was ok. That was the last task handed to him by his father the last promise to fulfil, and here he was, failing again.

He just wanted his family together and now they'd be apart forever.

Screw this. Dean closed his eyes tight and held the image of a five year old Sammy, curled in his lap arms tight around his waist as a thunder storm loomed over head, Dad off on a hunt, big brother the only person Sam needed to make it ok. His head was buried in Dean's stomach, the beat of his brother's heart drowning out the roar from the storm above. Dean clutched him tight, as his roots into this world, they were one, roots and soil, flower and water, sun and moon, they needed each other and were incomplete when apart.

As the gun shot rang through the night Dean wondered when the pain would hit, if it ever would, or would he simply fall asleep, forever to dream of Sammy, protected in his arms while the thunder raged above.

"What the hell was that?"

Phil's voice broke through Dean's reverie. For a second he figured that would be the last voice he'd ever hear, yet the pain still hadn't come, and the wind still moved around his body. Plus he was cold, still tied up.

Breathing.

Dean cracked open one eye tentatively, then the other. Phil was standing looking off into the desert sky. The sun had begun to break through the horizon, a thin line of light slowly moving across the desert in shadow, clutching at everything within its path, making a lazy way toward the man tied up on the ground, bathing the man with the gun as he looked for the source of the gun shot.

The land was still dark enough that Phil had a hard time making out the silhouettes standing a few hundred yards from the road. The flashlight was spinning slowly, marking an eerie tornado path through the brush.

Mike was on his knees, babbling.

"Mike?"

"Phil?! PHIL! Don't let her take me, don't let her take me away."

"Who?"

"The lady in white, she's here, I always thought it wasn't real but it is." Mike looked up at Phil with absolute terror in his eyes, enough to give Phil's heart pause and make his blood speed through his body looking for a safe place to hide.

"Mike, those are just stories, the angels of the desert are just stories."

"No they're not."

Mike sat rigid, his hand dropped the gun as his arm raised, fingers pointing forward. Phil slowly followed the length of his friend's arm, across the sand and brush and dust, to where a woman, bathed in light and dressed in white, stood facing him with hatred in her eyes.

"What? No, it can't be, NO!"

Mary walked forward slowly, pointed toward the east and lowered her head menacingly.

"_Leave my boys alone."_

Phil swallowed what little spit was left in his mouth. Mike jumped up, nodding, and ran as fast as he could in the direction Mary pointed, further into the desert, away from the road, away from the safety of the tarmac, into the dust where all kinds of animals and spirits lay in wait for those who were not worthy to try to pass through.

Phil stood, as if his feet were encased in concrete, it couldn't be real, it couldn't be.

Mary took another step forward, the wind around her building and whipping her hair and dress around her as a Knight wields a sword.

"_NOW."_

Phil turned, all thoughts of power, of taking lives, of victory forgotten as he ran following the trail of dust left behind by Mike.

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Thanks again to everyone for your amazing reviews and for taking the time to read this little fic XXX

Not done quite yet though! LOL!

Am about to watch the new eppy, i may be unconcious or a few days from the reviews i've heard already!


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Dean attempted to roll to his side, to sit up and unhook himself and run in the direction of the gun shot, find Sam, grab his lazy ass hop in the car and drive off into the sunrise like Sundance and Butch.

So far he'd managed to roll slightly onto his back, only for the ropes to pull on his wrists and cause him to roll back onto his side. He heard a noise from behind Phil's car, he had no weapon to reach, no way to swing himself round to defend himself, all in all he had no hope so when he saw Sam stumble round the corner, Dean blamed the grit in his eyes for the tears.

Sam walked forward, one hand braced against the police car as he tried to make sense of what happened, what he'd seen. His mother, Jessica, could it really have been? He'd heard stories about the desert and certain sacred Indian grounds being able to call forth desert angels when those who were worthy were in need. Could it have been?

"Sam, oh god am I glad to see you."

Sam smiled, or, at least he was certain he did, what he wasn't too certain of was which Dean he was smiling at.

"Which one of you do I need to free first?"

"What?"

"God Dean one of you is enough to have to deal with, you're gonna have to wait."

Sam pointed drowsily to the right of Dean, then walked crookedly over before dropping heavily to his knees and leaning forward to balance his head in his hands, elbows in the grit.

"Sammy?"

"Mmm?"

"You ok?"

"Uh huh."

"Could you free me?"

"Have to free him first, then you."

"Ok then, free me first Sammy."

"Ok"

Sam rolled Dean onto his stomach and pulled on the binds wrapped around his hands, after what seemed an eternity the rope slid down to the ground, Dean slowly stretched his body out and pulled his arms round to his front, his wrists were caked in blood, but other than a few cuts and bruises he figured he was doing ok, well, better than his kid brother who kept looking to the right as if he'd lost something.

"Sammy?"

"Where'd the other one go?"

"He went for cigarettes, don't worry about him ok?"

"Ok."

Dean held firm to Sam's shoulders, he stared into his brother's eyes and noted the vacant look and the sleepy droop of his eyelids. Gently slapping Sam's cheek he brought his brother's attention back.

"Where're Phil and Mike?"

"Mum sent them into the desert."

Ok, now he was officially worried about his little brother. Dean patted him down carefully, feeling no further injuries. He inspected the cut on Sam's temple, the huge goose egg that had formed.

"Sammy, you got a concussion man, we gotta get out of here before those guys come back ok?"

"Yeah, yeah ok Dean, hey, you ok?"

Sam looked Dean square in the eyes for the first time, relief washed over him instantly as Sam frowned and began to check Dean over for injuries, his fingers brushed his side where Phil had kicked him repeatedly and he couldn't stop the gasped intake of air before it escaped.

"Hey Dean you're not ok, we gotta get you fixed up."

Dean slapped Sam's hands away. "It's not me that has the concussion and is talking like an extra from 'One flew over the cuckoo's nest'. I'm fine Sam, banged up, bruised, tired and pissed off, but I'm fine. Come on man, we gotta go."

Standing carefully the older hunter grabbed the younger under his arms and lifted him slowly from the ground, Sam swayed precariously and grabbed onto Dean's jacket, with one arm around his waist and another around his shoulders, Dean guided the younger man to the Impala, once he had him settled in the passenger seat he ran around the front of the car to check the damage and, satisfied it wasn't anything he couldn't fix, he carried on to the drivers side, slowly lowered his bruised body into the seat and gunned the engine.

As he drove away, Dean checked the rearview mirror for any sign of Phil and Mike. Two women, both in white dresses, stood by the abandoned police car. Blinking quickly Dean checked again. The road was clear, no one around and no sign of their attackers.

God he needed a drink.

XXXXXXXXXX

"Ok Sammy boy here we go."

"I can go to sleep now?"

Dean carefully walked his brother to the second bed in the motel room. After driving for six hours he'd found a little by-the-wayside Motel called the Lazy Oyster, checked them in and then started the monumental task of getting the giant sized lump that was his brother from the car to the bed.

Why'd he have to be so tall? And when the hell did he start to fill out and get so big? He knew it was all muscle but damn, his brother needed to slim down if Dean had to carry him.

His own aches and pains were in full symphony with each other, but needing to stay awake to make sure Sam didn't fall into a coma had kept him going throughout the entire six hour drive, even if the big lug had almost decked him after the third hourly awakening.

Maybe the water in his face had been cruel.

"Come on Sammy, help me out here." Dean pulled the boots from his feet and then helped his brother sit up, pulling the jacket and shirt away and then the hoodie.

"Seriously Sammy what's with all the layers, is that like a prerequisite to becoming a student? You have to go grunge?"

Sam tried his best to help, but his eyes were drooping again and he really wanted to get back to his dreams, Mum and Jessica in the desert, running and laughing and smiling and free.

"Saw Mum."

"What's that Sammy?"

"Saw Mum and Jess."

"Where?"

"Desert."

Dean poured some peroxide onto a towel and gently cleaned the head wound. Carefully holding back Sam's hair as he did, the thought of grabbing a pair of scissors and sorting out Sam's do flashed through his mind.

"Yeah? You saw Mum and Jess?"

"You don't believe me?" Sam tried to frown around the hand, hair and towel currently holding, plastered to and pressed against his face.

"Yeah, yeah Sam, I believe you." Nope, no he didn't, and he was sure the sight he'd seen in the rearview mirror was just a trick of the light.

"They helped us, saved us."

"You saved me Sammy."

Sam looked up at his brother grabbed a fist full of his t-shirt and pulled Dean closer.

"I'll always be here to save you Dean, always."

"I know that man."

"Just like Mum and Jess will always be there for us."

"Go to sleep Sammy, please, just go to sleep."

"M' k Dean."

Sam's eyes drifted closed and his head lulled toward Dean. He brushed the hair back some more and applied a band aid to the cut on his temple. Pulling the covers up over is brother Dean sat back down again and brushed his hand through Sam's hair, tenderly and slowly, the tears that fell landed on the bed sheets and disappeared from view.

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Your reviews are more than i deserve. Thank you so much XXXXXX

I watched the new eppy (about to watch for the 4th time) and i'm still floored!! I can't get enough of this season! LOL!

Only one more chapter left. You've all been amazing and i wish it could go on forever. XXXXXX


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

The pounding in his head had subsided somewhat, yet when Sam tried to open his eyes he was sure his brain was about to knock its way from his skull only to bounce across the room and crash through the door to freedom.

He pulled one arm out from under the covers and covered his face. The one break in the curtains, the one little gap for light, just had to be where his face was. Sighing, he carefully opened his eyes and took in the room. He remembered parts of the drive, Dean waking him up with a smug grin until he couldn't take it any more and had tried to slap the grin from his brother's face. He didn't remember getting into the motel though.

He did remember Jess.

He did remember Mum.

He did remember he'd told Dean, and his brother had been unsure.

Which brought him to his next thought, where the hell was Dean?

He pulled the covers back and slowly sat up, swinging his legs off the side. He'd been undressed and put in his boxers and t-shirt that he kept aside for sleeping in. His head felt clean and with a brush of his fingers he felt Dean's handiwork. His body felt stiff and dirty and he looked longingly toward the shower.

Dean.

He gazed at the figure sprawled over the other bed, one leg hanging off, laying on his stomach, gently snoring. He was still fully clothed and even had his jacket on, a trail of blood from his wrists had dried around his fingers but still he slept on, his face relaxed and his breathing even.

Sam smiled and carefully shook his shoulder.

"Hey, Dean?"

"Mmm?"

"Come on man, roll over."

"You ok Sammy?"

"I'm good man, feel like I've got a killer hangover, but I'm good."

"You need some aspirin?"

"No man, I need you to roll over."

Sam gently helped Dean roll onto his back, pulled him forward and freed him from his jacket and shirt. Grabbing the first aid kit he went to work on his wrists, cleaning them and wrapping them in gauze. When he was done Sam carefully lifted Dean's t-shirt to check his torso. He glanced at his sibling's face; he'd fallen back to sleep and was snoring again. The bruising was bad but nothing was broken. Satisfied Dean wasn't hiding any injuries, Sam made his way into the shower to ease his aching joints and clear the desert from his body.

His mind wandered back to Jessica, to his mother. They'd saved them. Had it really happened? He was sure of it, the feeling he'd been left with told him it had been real.

He'd seen them both again. They were so beautiful, just as he had wanted to remember them. His mothers words echoed in his mind as he dried himself off and dressed in clean clothes.

_Find Dean, help him, bring him to my grave._

Help him. He'd freed him, they'd driven out and away and were safe, but Dean was still in pain and scaring him. He'd seen the look in Gordon's eyes, in Phil's eyes, in Dean's eyes.

He could help him, he knew it, his Mother knew it. He just had to get him to her.

He stepped from the bathroom, steam exploding into the small motel room, to find his brother still asleep. He'd rolled onto his side and the covers had fallen from his shoulder. Pulling them back up Sam brushed Dean's hair and swore he'd fix him, swore it for Dean, for Dad, for Mum.

XXXXXXXXX

"Do we have to do this again?"

"Just answer the damn question."

"Dean!"

"Sam!"

"Five."

"Wrong."

"What? How the hell is that wrong?"

Dean grinned smugly at his brother from across the small motel table the coffee and donuts between them smelling so sweet and appetizing that both their stomachs were growling in unison. Before they could eat though, Dean wanted to make sure Sam's concussion was definitely on it's way out.

"Four fingers, one thumb."

"What? Oh come on."

"Nope Sammy, you got it wrong, more donuts for me."

Sam grabbed his share before Dean could pull them onto his side, the pain from his brother's wrists hindering his assault on the food and allowing the younger man the advantage, even with a pounding headache.

"How's your ribs?"

"They're fine Sam." Dean ate pretty much a whole donut in one go, smiling broadly at Sam and causing him to almost choke as he laughed at the older man.

"Dude that's gross."

"What?"

They ate together in silence, both enjoying the meal after two days of taking it very easy and only eating sandwiches from the vending machine down the hall.

"Seriously you sure you're ok?" Dean asked around another mouthful of donut.

"You mean have I seen anymore dead people?"

"That's what I mean Haley-Joel."

"Dean I'm fine, honestly, it was the concussion, the desert, I think it made me see things. I mean if they had been there you'd have seen them too."

"Yeah, it was the concussion alright."

"Yeah."

Both brothers regarded the other over their breakfast, each trying to see into the other's soul for the truth, both knowing the other was lying, each deciding to ignore the fact.

"Where to next then?"

"I was thinking, maybe, we could go see Mum's grave?"

Dean almost choked on his donut. He glared at Sam and tried his best to keep the panic from his eyes.

"What?" He couldn't have heard right , he was sure he'd heard wrong.

"I remember Dad telling me there was a grave, our Uncle made sure there was a place for her to rest."

"It's empty Sam."

"Not the point Dean."

Dean gazed at the table, weighing his options. It was the last place he wanted to go, his mind wasn't ready to think about that, about being an orphan. He hadn't been there since he was seven and even then he couldn't look at the headstone, couldn't walk closer than ten yards to where the grave was. She wasn't even in there, why the hell would they need to visit an empty grave?

"Please."

And there it was, that one word , the purse of the lips and the tip of the head and Sam had him, he knew it, his brother knew it. There was no way out now.

Sighing heavily he picked up another donut. His appetite was gone but he had to go through the motions for Sam, had to pretend it was all ok and Dean was in control.

Sam watched as his brother took a bite and chewed as if he was enjoying the food. He knew this was a risky move, but he needed him to open up and if Mum thought this was the way then that's what he would do. Sam wanted to see her, be there with her, even though her body wasn't in the ground he was sure her presence was there. Plus he wanted to leave her something, something he felt she needed to have.

Dean looked up and nodded.

"Ok, but I get the last donut."

"What? No, you've had way more than me."

"House rules Sammy."

"You make up those rules Dean."

"Shut up bitch."

"Jerk."

They settled once again into the old familiar routine. The avoidance, the side step, each Winchester a master in his own right, yet the younger one was dancing with more style and more purpose. He had a goal in mind, and nothing was going to get in his way.

Dean.

He had silently promised his Mum he would make it ok, and part of him knew the gift of seeing not only his mother, but Jess too , had to be earned, and saving his brother was the best gift he could give back to their mother and father.

The two finished their donuts, finished their coffee, then made ready for the long drive to the graveside.

Sam packing excitedly and expectantly.

Dean slowly and reluctantly.

The End.

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Well we've come to the end guys, thank you all so much, to everyone who's read and to everyone who's reviewed i can't thank you enough for your kind words .

The Krip himself saw fit to carry on this story for me! LOL! Hopefully it should fit nicely in-between 'Bloodlust' and 'CSPWDT'.

If it doesn't blame The Krip!

Again thank you so much , you're all the reason us writers write XXXXXXXXXXXX


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